


Dazed

by callboxkat



Series: College AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Hospitals, I don't know what to tag this, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callboxkat/pseuds/callboxkat
Summary: Two weeks after their spring break trip to Chicago, Logan and his friends have settled back into the college routine. Things don’t always go as planned, however, and Logan gets hurt.





	1. Chapter 1

It was pouring rain, but Logan wouldn’t let that stop him from going to class.

Logan rarely ever missed school. If he could walk, and was sure he wasn’t contagious, he would go.  A little rain wouldn’t stop him, either. Education was very important, perhaps the most important thing in Logan’s opinion.

At the moment, he was on his way up to one of the academic buildings on his college campus. Just as he reached the door, he heard footsteps splashing their way towards him.

“Hi, Logan!” Patton’s cheery voice called. He looked up at Logan from under his umbrella- pale pink, covered in paw prints that might have been a cat’s or a dog’s. Logan could only have said for sure which had they been designed with some semblance of scientific accuracy, although based on the shape of the heel pad, he was inclined to believe that they were meant to be dog prints. It was the sort of umbrella that might have gotten Patton bullied, but Logan was pretty sure that his friend was such a ray of sunshine that no one would dare. Besides, anyone who tried to be mean to Patton probably wouldn’t get away with anything less than a black eye if Roman heard about it.

“Greetings,” Logan replied to his friend. He held the door open for his friend, who was struggling to close his umbrella. “I trust your commute went well this morning?”

“Yes, of course! It’s just a bit damp is all.” Patton looked down at the hems of his pale gray slacks with a grin. They were stained with water halfway up to his knee, which Logan suspected was due to jumping in large puddles.

Logan nodded, shaking his own black umbrella once to rid it of some of the excess rain drops before carefully folding it up.  Just as he finished doing so, he spotted Virgil among the thin stream of students continuing to enter the building. He was a little annoyed to see that his friend was soaked to the skin, apparently not having bothered to bring his umbrella. Logan knew he owned one.

Virgil made his way up to them and waved a hand in greeting as he used the other to lower his hood. Somehow, his dark eyeshadow remained immaculate.

“Oh, Virgil!” Patton tutted with disapproval. “You’ll make yourself sick!”

…

Thankfully, both of Logan’s classes for the day were held in this one building, so he would not have to go back outside until well after the weather was expected to improve. He and Patton shared a psychology class on the first floor while Virgil attended his Spanish course on the third.  After lunch, which Logan had packed ahead of time so as to not have to walk across campus to the dining hall, the three of them, Roman, and Joan and Talyn met up for their American History course on the second floor.

Spring break had only been two weeks ago, so Logan wasn’t surprised that their professor still brought up their class trip to Chicago during the lecture. They had visited three museums, and despite some problems with a certain member of their friend group, Logan had found the trip to be very rewarding.

At the moment, Dr. Grant was teaching the class about the Cold War, which he related to some of the artwork they may have seen during the trip to the Art Institute in Chicago.

Logan was sitting up in the front row, as he usually did (how else could he make sure not to miss anything?), but he did glance back to the back of the class, where Virgil and Roman preferred to sit. Logan wasn’t surprised to see that Virgil looked a little lost whenever their professor talked about the museums. From what Logan understood, Virgil didn’t remember the last few days of spring break all that well, and probably wasn’t sure to what paintings Dr. Grant referred.

Logan decided that he would give Virgil a run-through later that night of some of the more noteworthy exhibits from the trip. Perhaps he could make use of the plethora of photographs that Roman had taken with his phone.

…

The rest of class passed by fairly quickly. Logan had filled several pages of his notebook- he made a mental note to get a new one soon. At this rate, his current notebook would be filled well before the end of the school year.

He stayed behind for a few minutes to speak with Dr. Grant about that day’s lesson, which the professor seemed all too pleased to do. Logan was a little surprised when their conversation finally came to an end and he turned to see that his friends were just outside the door, waiting for him.

“My apologies,” Logan said, grabbing his backpack and making his way over to them. “I did not realize you were waiting for me.”

“We’re going to hang out at my house, Specs! Remember?” Roman said, backing up a step to make room for Logan. He nearly ran into Talyn in the process, who made a sound of protest. 

Oh, of course. That had slipped Logan’s mind. He considered it for a moment.

“I fear that it may not be best for me to join you this afternoon. I have some studying I wish to get done, and I tutor psychology this evening.”

“What studying? We don’t have any exams coming up.”

Logan folded his arms. Roman and Patton were both looking at him pleadingly, and while Virgil was pretending to be bored and just fiddling around with his phone, Logan caught his eyes when he glanced up, looking nervously hopeful.

“You can always study  _after_  tutoring,” Joan supplied from Logan’s other side. “It’s not like you’ll be there all night.”

Logan sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Fine.”

There was a small round of cheers of success, which Logan pretended not to be amused by, before they began to make their way out of the building. It had stopped raining over an hour earlier, but in the gaps in their conversation, Logan could hear their sneakers squeaking on the still-damp tile floor.

Just as they reached the staircase, the clasp on Logan’s backpack decided to come undone, so he paused to redo it. The others continued down the stairs, not noticing, and had reached the first floor by the time Logan finally got the clasp to stay together. He jogged down the steps to catch up.

And about halfway down, his foot slipped.

That fraction of a second between slipping and falling seemed to stretch impossibly. That instant of weightlessness, shock, the realization that he was about to fall. Fear gripped his chest and Logan’s brain frantically tried to figure out a way to circumvent the inevitable, but there simply was no way to do that.

So Logan just tried to protect his head with what little time he had, and was otherwise forced to just let what happened happen.

He briefly caught a glimpse of everyone turning around to look at him, of their shocked faces. He heard a shriek of surprise that he was about 96% sure was not his own.

And he fell.

The stairs hit his back and side harshly as he tumbled down to the bottom of the staircase, unable to slow his descent.

_Smack._

Logan saw stars. Blue and white and cold as ice.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan and his friends were done with classes for the day. They were on their way out of one of their college’s academic buildings, planning to go and hang out at Roman’s house for a few hours before Logan had to work.

Just as Logan and his friends reached the top of the staircase, the clasp on Logan’s backpack decided to come undone. He paused to redo it. The others continued down the stairs, not noticing, and had reached the first floor by the time Logan finally got the clasp to stay together. He jogged down the steps to catch up.

And about halfway down, his foot slipped.

That fraction of a second between slipping and falling seemed to stretch impossibly. That instant of weightlessness, shock, the realization that he was about to fall. Fear gripped his chest and Logan’s brain frantically tried to figure out a way to circumvent the inevitable, but there simply was no way to do that.

So Logan just tried to protect his head with what little time he had, and was otherwise forced to just let what happened happen.

He briefly caught a glimpse of everyone turning around to look at him, of their shocked faces. He heard a shriek of surprise that he was about 96% sure was not his own.

And he fell.

The stairs hit his back and side harshly as he tumbled down to the bottom of the staircase, unable to slow his descent.

_Smack._

Despite Logan’s best effort, his head hit the last step, and he saw stars. Blue and white and cold like ice. As his vision cleared, he became aware that he was lying on his side on the tile floor. Papers from his backpack had gone flying, and Logan vaguely heard them scatter to the floor around him. Everything smelled like dust and pale yellow and the brittleness of dead grass. The air felt incredibly dry as Logan sucked a breath into his sore chest. Faces hovered over him.

Logan felt rather stunned, and he just laid there on the floor for a moment or two. Various iterations of “Logan, are you okay?” reached his ears, but it was few seconds longer until he could respond.

“I… I think so?” He said slowly. Perhaps against his better judgement, he sat up, wincing.

“Wow, thanks for the confident answer,” said Roman, trying for lightness.

Logan felt like hours had passed since his foot had slipped, but he knew rationally that in all likelihood, it had been no more than a minute . Either way, that fall might have been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life yet. Logan’s head throbbed almost as if in agreement. He should have known better- he knew the floor was wet, he knew that a damp floor impeded friction, and he knew that when friction was compromised, the likelihood of falling was greatly increased. Logan creased his brow in frustration. He slowly put a hand to the back of his skull- when he touched it, part of him expected his fingers to come away red, but to his relief, he didn’t seem to be bleeding.

“Did you hit your head?” Joan asked. They were holding Logan’s backpack and umbrella, which they must have picked up from where they had fallen.

Logan was already embarrassed enough, and he would really have preferred no more fuss to be made than was necessary, so despite his distaste for such actions, he lied: “No.”

Patton didn’t look convinced, but he just helped Logan back to his feet with Roman’s help, Virgil and Talyn hovering anxiously behind them.

Logan swayed on his feet for a second when they finally let go, but he regained his balance and straightened.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“I could hold onto your stuff if you want to-.”

Logan cut off everyone’s worried questions by raising his hand. “I’m fine, guys, let’s just go.”

“Go?” Talyn looked a little baffled.

“Yes, to Roman’s. Don’t cancel your plans on my behalf.”

The others still looked uncertain, but eventually they relented. Roman insisted that everyone ride in his car, which Logan suspected was his way of making sure Logan didn’t drive, just in case. This annoyed Logan a little bit, but he appreciated the indirect way that Roman went about it.

Sitting in the passenger side front seat, Logan pushed his dark hair back out of his eyes. His hand paused on his forehead and he frowned slightly. His head felt alien, like it belonged to someone else.

…

They got to Roman’s house and the six of them got out of the vehicle, Virgil mumbling yet another complaint about how cramped of a ride it had been.

“Oh, come on, Virgil, lighten up!” Roman said cheerfully. He added something in Spanish that Logan didn’t understand, but made Virgil scoff. Ever since he’d found out that Virgil was taking a Spanish class, Roman had seemed to make it his mission to get Virgil to chat with him in the language. Logan wished they wouldn’t. He didn’t like not knowing things, not understanding, and he most certainly did not understand Spanish.

“I have some movies already picked out, or perhaps we could play some board games.”

“I would not be opposed to Scrabble,” Logan commented, closing the car door behind him and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His vision fuzzed and he felt briefly unsteady on his feet, but Logan blinked hard and things went back to normal.

…

Logan always won at Scrabble. He loved this game, loved the challenge of it. His fondness certainly had nothing to do with his prowess at it, and how he usually won by a huge margin. Certainly not.

…Okay, maybe that had a little bit to do with it.

Today, though, didn’t seem to be Logan’s day.

He’d turned one of Roman’s plays, “false”, into “falsehood”- a high-scoring word, especially considering that it fell both on both “triple letter score” and “double word score” spaces.

But right now, it was Patton’s turn, and he looked a little too giddy for Logan’s taste.

“Just go already,” Virgil sighed, getting impatient.

Patton just grinned as he locked his gaze with Logan’s. He daintily hovered his hand above the rack of game pieces before him, then oh-so-slowly picked up a single one. He did not remove his gaze from Logan’s as he set it down with a triumphant air.

“Falsehoods”, read the board.

Logan slowly looked down at his rack of letters. He had an “s.”. And, Logan realized, he had had that letter in the last round, too. He could have played this word.

Patton gleefully counted up his points as Logan looked on, his mouth hanging slightly open in surprise.

Patton was winning.  _Patton_.

It wasn’t that Logan thought Patton was dumb- he knew he wasn’t. Logan couldn’t help it. It simply didn’t sit right with him, that someone else had outscored him because he’d neglected to notice one letter among his collection. But it was merely a game. Perhaps Logan was just a sore loser. And he did feel a bit guilty, seeing how excited Patton was to be in the lead (and the others looked pretty cheery about it, too, even if it was only because they thought it was an exciting twist to see Logan lose.)

Logan sighed, rubbing his sore neck and finally grinning sheepishly at the others. “The game isn’t over yet,” he pointed out.

…

Logan lost a Scrabble game for the first time that day.

In the end, it wasn’t just Patton who’d beaten him, but Joan as well. It had been by a narrow margin, sure, but in the end, Logan still lost. He didn’t like that.

Logan was just having a little trouble focusing. His side, back, and right arm ached, his head throbbed, and he kept noticing his friends watching him like they expected him to keel over at any moment. It was all rather distracting.

He was  _fine_. It was just a little fall down the stairs. Everyone has done that at some point.

 _Not everyone smacks their head against a tile floor,_  Logan’s brain helpfully reminded him, but he ignored the thought. He was fine.

“Well,” Logan said, his tone cool. “I should head out. I’ll be expected at tutoring soon.”

“You could take the night off,” Virgil said, looking Logan up and down as the latter got to his feet. “You did fall down the stairs.”

“I’m quite alright,” Logan said, barely keeping himself from snapping the words. “Roman, I will be requiring a ride back to campus. You had us abandon our vehicles.”

“Oh. Right. Sure.” Roman shrugged at a look from Patton and got to his feet.

Logan heard a couple of whispers as he  ~~limped~~  walked from the room, Roman shortly behind him.

“Hey, Logan?” Roman asked when they were out of the house. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital? I could take you right now. I don’t mind. My brother could take everyone back to campus.”

“Roman, how many times must I tell you- I am fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You’re… shuffling. And I’m pretty sure I saw you hit your head, even if you say you didn’t.”

“Roman, I am perfectly alert and cognizant. There is no need for me to go to a hospital. I have neither the desire, necessity, nor time to do so. Please take me back to the college.”

Roman sighed. “Alright, _amigo_ , but just be careful, okay? If you won’t see a doctor, at least text me. Let me know you make it home okay, and text me if something happens.”

Logan figured that it would be best to agree here. “Fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a pretty different writing style than I've employed thus far, especially in the second half of it. I hope it isn't too confusing. If anyone wants clarification on anything, I'll be happy to provide it!

“Mr. Foley?”

“Hm?” Logan blinked to clear his head and looked up at one of the students he tutored. He wasn’t sure why all of the students he helped addressed him so formally. Perhaps it was a result of his manner of speech, or the fact that he was basically another professor to some of them. In the end, he supposed, it wasn’t important. Logan chose to see it as a show of respect.

“Could you help me with this problem?”

“Yes, of course, that is the purpose of my presence here.”

“Yeah, um, it’s just that I’ve asked you a couple times now and you didn’t answer me.”

Oh. Logan must have zoned out. “My apologies. What is the question?”

“I’m supposed to diagnose this guy, but I’m not sure if he’s got bipolar disorder, or maybe….”

…

Eventually, Logan was finished with his tutoring. It was approximately 6:30 in the evening, the time at which he usually went to get dinner. That night, however, Logan would have preferred to just go back to his apartment and take a nap. But he still needed to study. Logan’s pounding headache, sore ribs, and painful arm could complain all they liked, but that fact remained. He had an astronomy quiz the next day, and Logan felt that it was never too soon to prepare.

As promised, Logan texted Roman when he got home. Logan understood why Roman wanted him to do so. He understood, internally, that the others thought he was more hurt than he was letting on, that he should have gone to a doctor, but Logan was fine. It was simply illogical and unnecessary to consider the alternative.

 _Logan_ : I have arrived at my apartment.

 _Princey_ : Cool. Thx 4 telling me. U good??

 _Logan_ : I am well. I have studying to do.

 _Logan_ : Give the others a greeting for me if they are still at your house.

 _Princey_ : K.

 _Logan_ : Thank you. Good bye.

Logan waited for a second to see if Roman would reply, but he never did. Logan wondered offhandedly why Roman wasn’t sending his usual, over-the-top, altogether too-long replies. In most text conversations, Roman would have sent Logan no less than six emojis already. Perhaps he was busy, or distracted. Logan decided not to dwell on it.

Once Logan accepted that Roman was not going to respond, he stuck his phone back in his pocket and opened the car door. Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, Logan got out of the car and shut the door behind him. He was about to start forward when a wave of dizziness hit him, and he fell back against the car, barely keeping himself on his feet. His backpack fell to the ground with a dull  _thunk_ that he barely heard.

Logan swore under his breath and slowly sank to the ground, bits of gravel from the parking lot digging into his knees. He waited there for a minute or two until the dizziness began to abate.

Logan took a few deep breaths and released each of them very slowly, steeling himself to get back up.

Thankfully, he managed to get inside his apartment without further incidence.

Logan still didn’t have the time nor desire to see a doctor, nor the necessity to do so (or so he told himself), but perhaps he should just go to bed early. He could wait to study until the morning.

 _You have a quiz tomorrow,_  Logan reminded himself.  _You can’t slack off. You have set high expectations and are expected to keep to them._

In the end, Logan didn’t go to bed early. He studied until the early morning hours before he finally let himself sleep.

…

Logan’s alarm went off. Groaning, reaching, he turned it off.

Head like a bag of wet cement, arm like lead, neck stiff, pain in his ribs like knives. Hard to take a full breath.

Logan checked his phone.

Wednesday, 7:30 AM.

Logan had class today. Logan had calculus. Logan had astronomy. Logan had a quiz.

Logan had forgotten to tell Virgil about the paintings at the Art Institute. American history was Thursday.

Today was Wednesday.

He could wait.

Logan got out of bed. Stiff, tired, achy, painful.

Pull off pajamas.

Bruises the size of softballs. Purple and red like plums. Sore, tender, swollen.

Put on jeans, polo, straighten tie. Brush teeth.

Go to class.

Go to class.

Go.

…

Logan’s alarm went off. Groaning, reaching, he turned it off.

Head like a bag of wet cement, arm like lead, neck stiff, pain in his ribs like knives. Hard to take a full breath.

Logan checked his phone.

Thursday, 7:30 AM.

Logan had class to–

Wait. Thursday? 

Logan checked again. Thursday, 7:31 AM.

Wasn’t it Wednesday?

Now that Logan thought about it, he could sense the ghosts of memories from the previous day, but they seemed to evaporate as he tried to focus on them.

His quiz.

Had he taken his quiz? Had he even gone to class? What was going on?

Logan let out a frustrated cry, covering his eyes with his good arm.

Logan had class. Today was Thursday.  _Go to class_.

Logan had class.

Logan stumbled out of bed. He did not make his bed. He did not comb his hair. He found his backpack. He ruffled through his notes.

The notes were so few. So garbled. Usually multiple pages, yesterday’s less than one. He couldn’t read half of his handwriting. Astronomy notes in the same notebook as calculus. Phrases and fragments. Words abandoned partway through. Sentences were repeated over again. Sentences were repeated over again.

Logan swallowed. He could worry about deciphering this later. He had classes to attend.

He went to the parking lot. He couldn’t get his car to unlock. The key didn’t fit in the door. He couldn’t get in the car. Logan couldn’t figure out why.

He pulled out his phone and selected a contact. “Roman?” Roman lived closest, right?

“Hey, Logan! How’s it going? How are you feeling?”

“I’m quite well, Roman,” Logan said, his voice surprisingly steady. The fog on his mind seemed to lift a little. “Would you mind picking me up? I’m afraid I’ve locked myself out of my car, and I can’t find my spare key.”

“Oh.” A short pause, conversations in the background. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Roman arrived. He seemed confused.

Logan still had his keys in his hand.

Logan put them in his pocket.

Roman asked questions. Logan had no answers.

Logan went to class.

Virgil was confused during the American History lecture when Dr. Grant referenced spring break once again. Logan should teach his friend about the paintings.

Logan went to class.

Roman didn’t like how he limped. Roman didn’t like how he squinted in the light. Roman didn’t like, didn’t like, didn’t like.

Patton didn’t like his short temper. Patton didn’t like his hisses of pain. Patton didn’t like, didn’t like, didn’t like.

Virgil didn’t like his refusals of help. Virgil didn’t like that he was nervous to take the stairs.  Virgil didn’t like, didn’t like.

Joan didn’t like.

Talyn didn’t like.

Logan didn’t like it either.

Logan went home. Logan studied. Logan couldn’t focus. Logan got annoyed. Logan tried again.  Logan researched study methods on his laptop. Logan’s headache worsened. Logan wasn’t happy.

It was past midnight, and Logan was very tired.

Logan went to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I probably should have mentioned sooner is that I write Logan as having a mild form of synesthesia in this AU, so if you've been wondering about some of the descriptions of things (like smelling yellow) that's why.

Virgil drove to class Wednesday morning. He couldn’t stop thinking about the previous day’s events, or rather, event. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the terror on Logan’s face as he fell. He kept hearing Patton’s scream. Seeing Logan lying stunned on the floor, staring ahead with unfocused eyes.

And he wouldn’t go to a freaking hospital. Was he crazy? School wasn’t  _that_  important.

Virgil’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He couldn’t even check in on Logan properly this morning. They shared no classes that day, and the building where Logan’s morning class was likely to be was on the opposite side of campus from Virgil’s.

Perhaps Virgil could find him later in the day, or maybe one of his other friends would be able to check on him sooner.

…

Virgil found Logan at lunchtime, in the dining hall. He was looking through his notecards, moving very slowly. He had no food with him, Virgil was slightly confused to see, and he was pretty sure that his friend’s tie was on backwards as well.

“Hey, Logan,” Virgil said, sitting down beside his friend. Logan jumped, the motion sending his flashcards cascading to the floor. They both stared at the cards for a second, Virgil’s heart pounding with anxious guilt. He hadn’t meant to startle his friend, but he knew how Logan was about organization and being interrupted. Logan, however, didn’t say a word as he reached over and started gathering the fallen study aids.

“Do you mind if I help?”

Logan just blinked at him in a way that Virgil interpreted to mean ‘Why aren’t you already?’

Virgil started gathering up the cards. He didn’t know how Logan kept them organized- he knew they weren’t sorted by subject, or alphabetical order. Logan had told him once that it was based on “the color of the term”, whatever that meant. All of the cards were written in black permanent marker as far as Virgil could tell.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, handing over the carefully stacked bundle of flashcards that he’d picked up. Virgil expected Logan to start sorting them again, but he just stuffed them unceremoniously in his bag without even banding them together.

Virgil looked Logan up and down. “Are you okay, man?” Virgil felt like he’d asked this question a hundred times since Tuesday.

Logan sighed, nodded, and got up. Virgil noticed that he moved very stiffly, favoring his right side heavily, as he shuffled from the room. Where was he even going? His class was in the other direction.

Virgil was very worried about his friend.

After class, Virgil resolved himself, he was going to  _make_  Logan go to the hospital.

…

Virgil stood just outside the academic building that (he was pretty sure) housed Logan’s last class of the day. Roman was with him- Virgil had run into him on the way over, and told him his plan. Roman had agreed.

“He’s not acting right today,” Roman had said, his face almost a pout. “He’s not talking. And you know that nerd never stops talking.”

“Yeah,” Virgil admitted. There was a pause during which Virgil shuffled his feet. “You do know he’s not going to go willingly, right?” he asked.

“ _Yo sé_ ,” Roman confirmed.

“Now is not the time to try and make me practice Spanish, Romano,” said Virgil. He fished his phone out of his pocket- Logan was running a little later than usual. He dialed his friend’s number.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered.

“Logan?” said Virgil after a couple seconds’ worth of silence.

“Mmmm,” came a vague affirmation.

“Uh, hi. Funny story: my car battery died while I was in class. So—”.  

“Lights on?” Logan’s voice interrupted. Virgil took a second to figure out what that was supposed to mean.

“What? —Oh, yeah. I left the lights on. I wasn’t thinking.” The lies made his skin crawl, but he was trying to help his friend. Surely even Patton would find this justifiable.

“Anyway, Roman was going to bring me home this afternoon while that gets fixed, but we were thinking of maybe going to get dinner first. We’ve got room for one more, and I know you- you like Panera. Want to come? You’re out of class, right?”

“Mmmmhm,” came an additional, vague affirmation.

“Okay, well, we’re outside the building. By the flagpole. Come meet us, okay?” Virgil’s voice was shaking a little by the time he hung up the phone.

A few minutes passed before Logan exited the building and stumbled his way over to them.

Roman put on a look of false cheeriness. Virgil actually found it pretty convincing. “Alright, gentlemen, onward we go!” He cried, leading the way back to his own car. Roman took the driver’s seat, Logan took shotgun, and Virgil sat in the back.

…

Roman noticed that Logan kept almost drifting off to sleep as he drove. Thankfully, possibly because of this, Logan hadn’t noticed yet that the drive was taking longer than usual, or that they were heading in the wrong direc—Wait.

Logan had sat up suddenly, looking around. “Where’re we? This’s’n’t the way t’the restaraunt.” Logan seemed unable to separate his syllables properly, but his gaze was sharper than it had been since they left the college.

Virgil, behind him, sighed. “We’re taking you to see a doctor, okay? Just sit back. You’re going to be fine.”

But Logan was wide awake now. “I’m not going to the hospital! Take me back!”

“No,” said Roman firmly. “You’re hurt. I’m pretty sure you’ve got a concussion. We’re going.”

Logan started scrabbling at his seat belt buckle, and Roman looked over in alarm. “Wait, Logan, don’t—".

“Logan, stop!”

The buckle clicked and Logan went for the door handle. He was going to _jump out of the freaking car!_

Roman couldn’t let go of the wheel, but Virgil lunged forward, trying to grab him. Logan pulled away, finally got the door open, and made to jump.

Roman slammed on the brakes. 

The car screeched to a halt, probably leaving about half of its tires on the asphalt. Angry car horns blared around them. Roman looked quickly around to make sure the others were okay. Virgil’s nose was bleeding, probably from hitting Logan’s headrest, but he gave Roman a thumbs-up to show that he was okay.

Logan, sporting a fresh bruise on his upper left arm, sat back. He was panting, glaring at them both. “Take. Me. Home.”

Roman, his heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon, supposed he didn’t have much choice but to do just that.

…

The next day, Thursday, was very awkward on Roman’s and Virgil’s parts. Logan, like the previous day, wasn’t talking to them, but he didn’t even bring up their attempt to force him to get medical treatment. It was almost like their friend didn’t remember what had happened.

Surely, he remembered?

Even with the memory of what had happened the previous evening, Roman couldn’t help but continue to voice his concerns about Logan’s well-being. Virgil did the same, though with much less conviction, as did Joan, Patton, and Talyn. Logan never responded, but he did have his brow creased for most of the day, presumably in annoyance.

Roman and Virgil decided not to try their stunt again that day.


	5. Chapter 5

It already past 3:00 in the morning, but this college student didn’t mind. He liked the dark, the quiet, the shadows. He tended to wander when he was feeling stressed, and given that he had a double major in political science and theatre, along with a minor in economics, this happened a lot. Most people just called the student ‘D’. He tended to give a different name every time someone asked for it, but they almost all began with that same letter. At the moment, this student was wandering through a park not far from campus. He knew it was technically closed and that he wasn’t supposed to be there, but somehow that just made the idea of going there even more appealing.

D rounded a cluster of trees and paused, spotting something rather odd ahead. Another guy, about his age, was standing in the middle of a clearing wearing just his pajamas and a muddy pair of slippers. He didn’t appear to be doing anything- just standing there.

D hesitated, shrugged to himself, and walked over. He didn’t have anything better to do, and he was a little curious.

“Um, you good, dude?”

The guy slowly turned around and looked up at him, blinking owlishly. He looked rather dazed.

“Oh… hi,” said the pajama-clad man, his voice almost slurred.

D realized that he recognized the guy. This was Logan, one of the other members of his American History course. He hadn’t recognized him at first: it was dark, and D had never seen Logan look so… off. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, for one thing, and his hair was sticking up in all directions. “What the hell did you take?” he couldn’t help but ask. D hadn’t pegged Logan as the drug-taking type, but hey. Nerds like him probably got stressed too.

Logan didn’t respond. He just kept staring at D, which was more than a little unnerving. He swayed a bit on his feet, like a tree in the wind.

“Should I call someone?” Again, no answer: just another slow, confused blink.

D frowned and stepped closer. Okay, maybe something was seriously wrong with this guy. But D didn’t want to deal with this; he didn’t want to be out here all night. He had other things to do than look after some guy who’d drunk way too much or taken… whatever he must have taken.

D looked Logan up and down, and noted the rectangular shape in his pajama pocket with a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to grab your phone, okay?”

D fished it out of Logan’s pocket, and after another few seconds of awkward hesitation, took Logan’s hand and used his fingerprint to unlock it. D pulled off one of his yellow gloves and stuffed it in his pocket. He navigated to Logan’s recent calls, and he selected the most recent one with a contact name. Now just to hope that this guy would pick up at 3:00 in the morning.

Luck was on his side.

“Hey, Logan, what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Uh, hi. Who’s this?”

“…You’re not Logan. Where is he? Is he okay? What’s going on?” The voice was growing more and more alarmed, which in turn alarmed D.

“Stop,  _stop_! Logan’s with me. He’s, uh…. I don’t know what he took, but he’s just standing in the middle of a park in his pajamas. He’s acting really weird. Do you live by the school? Can you come pick him up or something?”

D could already hear shuffling noises on the other end. “What park? Where exactly?”

D told him, and then hung up the phone before whoever it was could try to tell him to wait with Logan.

“Just… stay here.” He said, putting the phone back in Logan’s hand. “Don’t move.” He patted Logan on the shoulder awkwardly, which did get a faintly annoyed look out of the unusually silent nerd. D paused to glance down at the confused-looking student’s unicorn slippers before slowly turning and walking away. This wasn’t his problem anymore.

Looking very lost, Logan watched him go, hand still outstretched as if about to give someone his phone.


	6. Chapter 6

Virgil barely paused to grab his wallet and car keys, stuffing the phone in his pocket. He couldn’t believe that jerk had hung up on him! Virgil’s friend was lost and confused in a park in the middle of the night, and that guy couldn’t be bothered to stay on the phone. What if Logan got hit by a car or something?

He practically sprinted from the apartment, ignoring the look of alarm from his roommate, who had been messing around on his phone in the living room.

“Virgil, what’s—?”

Virgil let the door slam shut behind him. He got to his car and drove to the park, hoping Logan hadn’t gone anywhere.

Virgil, usually the safest driver he knew, blew through every stop sign in his path, and knew he was going well over the speed limit. Thankfully, no one else was on the road at this time of night.

He had to hop a locked gate to get in the park (who knew how Logan had even gotten in) before he could start searching properly.

“Logan!” Virgil cried, peering into the dark. “Where are you?”

Heart hammering, Virgil looked through the park, being as thorough as his anxiety would allow. Fifteen minutes passed before Virgil found him.

He was standing, swaying, in the middle of a clearing just off of the path. He was wearing pajama pants, an old t-shirt, and a muddy pair of what appeared to be unicorn slippers. His hair was mussed, like he’d just rolled out of bed and walked here. Virgil raced to his side.

“Logan, can you hear me?” Virgil asked, taking his friend’s arms.

There was a short pause before Logan’s eyebrows drew together. He squinted. “Roman?”

Virgil huffed out something that could pass as a laugh. “I’m going to forgive you for that since you don’t have your glasses. It’s Virgil, remember? What are you doing out here?”

But Logan’s gaze had started to wander, a dazed look returning to his face.

Virgil glanced around for the guy who had called him, but could find no one. That jerk had abandoned Logan, who obviously needed help.

Virgil bit back his rage and sighed. “Okay, buddy… come on.” Nervous about the way his friend was swaying, Virgil put Logan’s good arm across his shoulders before he started walking back towards his car.

The distance between them and the parking lot seemed endless. The park was nearly silent save for their footsteps, the rustling of trees, and occasional noises that Virgil told himself were probably just raccoons.

“Virgil?” a quiet voice asked.

Virgil’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, Logan, it’s me.”

“’M sorry.”

Virgil told him it was okay, but Logan seemed not to hear him. He got his friend into the passenger side front seat, buckled him in, and closed the door. He made sure the door was locked this time, to buy time in case Logan got any more dangerous ideas.

Virgil sat down in front of the steering wheel and started the car.

Logan fell asleep on the way to the hospital, his head lolling forwards slightly. Virgil glanced at him occasionally. That thing about not being able to sleep with a concussion was a myth, right? He was sure that Logan himself had informed him of this at one point, but Virgil couldn’t help but be nervous.

They arrived, and Virgil quickly moved to Logan’s side of the car. He opened the door and shook Logan’s shoulder. For a scary moment, he thought he couldn’t get Logan to wake up, but then his eyes fluttered open.

“Mmm?”

“Hey, Lo, we’re here. Come on, I’ve got you.” Virgil reached over and unbuckled Logan’s seatbelt, then helped him from the car. He put his friend’s arm across his shoulder once more, and half-carried Logan to the emergency room as fast as he was able.

…

Virgil was filling out paperwork while the doctors looked over Logan. He filled out what he could, but how was he supposed to know Logan’s insurance information?

With yet another worried glance towards the door his friend had disappeared behind, Virgil grabbed his phone and called the only friend he thought might also be awake at four in the morning. Roman liked to stay up late working on his fanciful screenplays.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered. “Virgil? It’s four AM.”

“Yeah, I know, Roman, and I’m sorry if I woke you, but I’m—I’m at the hospital, with Logan. I need you to—.”

“Woah, woah, Virgil, slow down. What happened? You’re at the hospital?”

Virgil took a deep breath and let it out. “ _Yes._ ” As calmly as he could manage, Virgil explained the situation. “I need you to go to Logan’s apartment—you know where that is, right?—and get his wallet for me. I need his insurance information for this form. Oh, and grab his glasses and some shoes.”

“How am I supposed to get in?”

Virgil paused, glanced again towards the door. “I’m guessing it’s not locked.”

…

Logan’s door was not only unlocked: it was also hanging wide open. Roman paused to knock on the door. He wasn’t really sure why, but it felt wrong to just walk in without doing so.

Of course, nobody answered, so Roman stepped inside and flicked on the light.

“Shoes….” Roman glanced around, and spotted a pair of black sneakers beside the mat at the door. He bent and picked them up by the heel.

He stopped by Logan’s bedroom next. Roman had never been in this part of the apartment before. He didn’t pause to take it in, but he did notice that the blankets had been dragged so they hung down and brushed against the floor, and Logan’s pillow sat practically halfway to the door.

Roman sighed, then plucked Logan’s glasses and wallet from the dresser. He left the room, paused to grab Logan’s keys, and left the apartment. He locked the door behind him, and went to meet his friends at the hospital. He hoped Logan was okay.


	7. Chapter 7

Roman was there now, for which Virgil was grateful, but it still sucked to get yelled at by an angry nurse.

“You waited almost three days to bring him to a hospital! What on earth were you thinking?”

“We  _tried!_  I’d like to see you get Logan to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” Roman protested.

Virgil’s throat had apparently decided to close up, and he was hunched in on himself in an attempt to escape the yelling. To his relief, though, Roman seemed to share his opinion that it would be better not to share the part about Logan trying to jump out of a moving car. He could see no way that sharing that information would be beneficial to anyone, especially Logan.

The nurse continued to scold them for a while, but eventually seemed to run out of steam. They leaned back. “Is there anyone we can call for your friend? I’m guessing he doesn’t have a spouse. Parents, maybe?”

Virgil frowned, swallowed, and decided to answer. Uncurling slightly from his previously hunched-in-on-himself position, he cleared his throat. His first attempt to speak only resulted in a puff of air, but the second was more successful. It was almost like he leaned into the words to make them come out. “Not really… I mean, they’re not close. I can call later, but I wouldn’t bother them now.”

The nurse frowned, but was apparently used to hearing things like that. “Okay. In that case… I’m not really supposed to let anyone besides family back there, but your friend’s rather distressed. Do you two want to see him? It might help calm him down.”

Virgil and Roman nodded eagerly, and soon, they found themselves in a pristine hospital room. A heart monitor beeped quietly.

“Logan?”

Their friend turned his head, wide, bewildered eyes meeting theirs. He did look distressed, that was for certain, but he seemed too confused to voice what was wrong.

Roman and Virgil went to the side of the bed. Virgil’s heart constricted when he saw that Logan’s right arm was in a cast up to the elbow. He hadn’t even considered that he might have had a broken bone.

“It’s just a hairline fracture,” the nurse said, seeing Virgil’s expression. “He also has some bruised ribs, but those should heal on their own.”

Roman silently unfolded Logan’s glasses and balanced them on his nose for him. “That’s better,” Virgil heard him murmur.

“Okay, Logan, I’m going to give you some IV fluids now.” The nurse spoke slowly and clearly. “You’re a bit dehydrated, and that’s probably a large part of the reason you’re so disoriented. Okay?”

Logan didn’t respond, but he released a modicum of the tension in his shoulders when Virgil squeezed his hand.

…

Logan had fallen asleep over an hour ago, but neither Roman nor Virgil had moved. They wanted to be there when he woke up.

“We should tell Patton,” Virgil said softly, breaking the long silence.

Roman also kept his voice low. “It’s barely seven. Let’s wait a little longer. Then I’ll call him, okay?”

Virgil nodded, rubbing tired eyes. “Okay.”

Roman paused. “You should try to sleep.”

Virgil glanced over at him and huffed out a breath. “You know I can’t do that here.”

“If you want to go home, I can—.”

“No.”

Roman sighed, nodded, and started to get up. “In that case, I’m going to grab us both some coffee. Cream and sugar?”

“No. I take it black, like my soul.”

Roman snorted. “Sure, Surly Temple.”

…

Roman returned to the hospital room as fast as he could. Logan was still asleep when he returned, but Virgil looked up and gave a little wave. Neither had moved while Roman was gone.

“We should call Patton now,” Virgil said as Roman set down the two coffee cups.

“Okay,” Roman agreed. “I’ll do it. You stay here.” He didn’t want Patton to worry when he got to campus and couldn’t find any of them. He pulled his phone from his pocket, glanced once more over at Logan, and went out into the hall.

To be honest, the phone call went better than Roman had expected it to, but by the end, he could hardly tell what Patton was saying. It was clear that Patton was crying, and that he felt guilty for not making Logan go to the hospital sooner.

“It’s not your fault,” Roman had assured him. “You know how stubborn Logan can be.”

He made Patton promise not to skip class, as the two he had that day were ones he was struggling with, but to come see Logan afterwards instead.

“Would you mind telling Joan and Talyn what’s going on if you see them?” Roman added, almost as an afterthought.

After hearing something Roman assumed was a noise of agreement, he said good-bye, and ended the call.

…

“We should call his parents,” Roman said some time later. “I know Logan said they don’t talk, but they’d want to know about this, right?”

Virgil frowned. Slowly, he said, “I think it would be best if we wait for Logan to decide. I don’t know what the situation is.”

Roman glanced over. “You think it might be like you and your mom?”

Virgil hesitated, nodded, then set his chin down on his hand. “Exactly.” He didn’t like being reminded of that, that his own mother disapproved so strongly of his ‘lifestyle choices’.

Roman seemed to sense his change in mood. “Virgil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve—.”

There was a sound from the bed, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. Virgil and Roman both snapped their attention to Logan.

The man in question stirred, his eyes opening. His gaze traveled slowly around the room before settling on Roman, then Virgil.

“I have several questions,” Logan said.

Virgil couldn’t help it. He started laughing. “I’d—I’d be worried if you didn’t, man,” he said, relief in his voice. He handed Logan his glasses from the bedside table, then picked up a small, plastic cup of water that was beside them. “Drink this first, though, okay? Then you can ask all the questions you want.”


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Logan was aware of was a steady, high-pitched beeping. He wished it would stop. It was rather annoying. White lights stabbed in his mind’s eye with each sound.

The second thing he noticed was that his right arm felt oddly heavy, and his left hand itched for some reason.

He was warm, though, and his head hurt less than it had been lately.

Where was he?

Logan opened his eyes.

He squinted a little in the painfully bright light, but as his eyes adjusted, he catalogued his surroundings. He didn’t seem to be wearing his glasses, but what he could make out led Logan to the most logical conclusion: he was in a hospital. Why was he in a hospital? How did he get here? What day was it even? Logan wasn’t sure.

Roman and Virgil were here. Logan felt a rush of relief, but he was still very confused.

“I have several questions,” he said, his throat a little scratchy.

And Virgil, for reasons Logan could not fathom, burst into laughter. What was so funny about this? Logan wondered, frowning.

But the relief was clear in his friend’s voice when he said, “I’d—I’d be worried if you didn’t, man.” Had he worried Virgil? He hadn’t meant to.

Although, Logan supposed, since he had just woken up in a hospital, the idea that he may have worried his friends wasn’t exactly far-fetched. Looking towards Roman, Logan saw a similar sense of relief in that friend’s eyes.

And then Virgil was pushing his glasses and a cup of water into his hands, with an order to drink the whole cup in exchange for answers. Logan didn’t understand the logic behind this exchange rate, but he put on his glasses and sipped the water obediently. The brightness in the room was still not agreeing with his headache, so Logan asked Roman to dim the lights and close the blinds, which he did, before starting with his other questions.

…

“It’s Friday?!” Logan echoed. “We’re—we’re supposed to be in class right now! What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon, but Logan, you’ve got to calm down,” said Roman. “I already emailed our professors and told them we wouldn’t be coming in today. Yours too.” He frowned. “Not that you should even be thinking about that right now.”

Logan sighed and let his aching head fall back against the pillows. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he still had questions. All he’d asked so far was how long he’d been here (a little over eight hours) why he was here (concussion, fractured arm, dehydration) and what day it was (Friday). These answers more or less made sense to Logan, but he was still displeased. His head felt foggy, and trying to remember that past week was like trying to reach something in the ocean: it just kept floating away every time he swam closer. Logan remembered Tuesday, he remembered falling down the stairs, and he more or less remembered the Scrabble game from that night. He vaguely remembered Thursday too, when he focused on it, but he could not for the life of him remember what had happened after Scrabble on Tuesday, nor anything that had happened Wednesday. So, that was the next question Logan asked.

“Oh,” said Virgil. He glanced at Roman as if unsure what to say.

“Well…” Roman started. “I don’t really know what happened Tuesday night or at school on Wednesday. I know you were there, at least.”

“You were acting really weird,” Virgil cut in helpfully.

“Right. Yeah. That’s true. But, um, you’d probably want to know that Virgil and I tried to take you to the hospital on Wednesday, and….” He trailed off, glancing at Virgil.

“You weren’t exactly enthusiastic,” Virgil muttered. He touched his nose gingerly, seemingly not aware he was doing so, and Logan frowned.

“Please elaborate.”

Roman lowered his voice as if he was afraid of being heard by the hospital staff. “Well, you sort of tried to jump out of my car. My moving car. On the highway.”

A pause.

“I nearly jumped out of a car?” Logan echoed disbelievingly, his eyebrows shooting up. “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, it happened,” Virgil confirmed.

“You nearly made Our Supreme Dark Overlord over here break his nose.”

“You don’t have to make him feel guilty about it,” Virgil sighed, looking over at his friend. Apparently, he didn’t mind the nickname. “Besides, you’re the one who slammed on the brakes.”

“What exactly was I supposed to d—?” Roman started indignantly, only to cut himself off when he saw Logan, who had winced visibly at the volume.

“May I ask another question?”

Virgil pulled his legs up into his chair. “Shoot.”

Logan frowned again. That was probably one of those slang terms he didn’t quite understand. He decided to just ask his question. “How exactly did I get here?”

“Oh, that’s a fun one,” Roman said, sitting back in his chair and glancing at Virgil.

…

After Logan had gotten what answers he could out of his friends, Virgil and Roman had a question of their own.

“Do you want us to call your parents?” Virgil asked, a little hesitantly. “We haven’t yet. I know you told me you guys don’t talk, but do you want us to call anyway?”

Logan swirled his plastic spoon through the small bowl of chicken noodle soup that a nurse had brought him for lunch. “No,” he said finally. “No, thank you. I don’t want to bother them with this.”

Perhaps he imagined it, but Logan thought he saw a heartbroken look flash across Roman’s face. He didn’t understand why that would be.

He finished about half the cup of soup, mostly just eating the broth (he felt a little nauseous, and eating the chunks of chicken seemed like a bit much), before setting it back on the tray before him. 

Logan was still very tired, and the effort of leaning forward to eat that bit of soup had, frustratingly, made him a little dizzy, so he leaned back against the pillows. Before long, his eyes fell shut again.

…

“Did you really email our professors?” Virgil asked Roman in a whisper once he was sure Logan was asleep.

“Ah… no,” Roman admitted, pulling out his smartphone. He’d just said that so Logan would calm down. “But I’m going to do that right now.”

Virgil snorted, watching Roman type out the email.

“What I don’t understand is why Logan was dehydrated. It’s not like he spent the last few days in the desert.”

“I actually asked about that while you were getting our coffee this morning,” Virgil said. Roman was surprised. Virgil wasn’t usually the type to approach strangers with questions. “Apparently they think Logan either forgot to drink water,”—Roman frowned at that possibility—“or the concussion made him too nauseous to want to.”

“That’s… not good.” Roman looked up from his phone, having just pressed the ‘send’ button.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil agreed.

…

Logan woke again to someone gently shaking his good shoulder and saying his name.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Patton’s here,” Virgil informed him.

Patton was indeed here, standing in the doorway of the hospital room with a big stuffed animal in his arms and tears in his eyes. When he saw Logan was awake, he started across the room, walking stiffly. He set the stuffed animal (was that a platypus?) at the end of the bed, and pulled Logan into a hug. Logan tried to hold back his wince.

“If you ever,” Patton said tearfully, “do something like that again—” he pulled back just enough to look Logan in the face— “I will physically fight you.”

…

To no one’s surprise, when Patton found out that Virgil hadn’t gotten any sleep the previous night, he had all but commanded him to go home and take a nap. Roman, who had gotten up at four that morning, had decided to also leave for a few hours to get some sleep himself.

Once they were gone, it was just Patton and Logan in the hospital room. Patton was working on his homework in an armchair near the bed. He glanced up at Logan occasionally, who was currently curled up slightly with the stuffed platypus in his arms. Patton felt a strong fondness for him in that moment, warm in his chest, and had to resist the temptation to take a photo. Logan probably wouldn’t have appreciated it. Patton looked back down at his book, a soft smile on his lips. The room was silent save for the beeping of the heart monitor and the quiet flutter of paper when Patton turned a page in his textbook.

“Did you know that the platypus and the four living species of echidna are the only mammals that lay eggs?” Logan mumbled from the bed, not opening his eyes. Patton looked up in mild surprise, having thought he was asleep.

His smile widening, Patton said, “I did know that. You told me a couple months ago.” That was why Patton had picked out this particular stuffed animal. Logan always spoke about his knowledge with such passion, such barely-contained joy, but the glow in his eyes when he talked about the platypus had stuck with Patton. “I still don’t know what an echidna, is, though.”

“They’re basically ant-eaters with spines like a hedgehog.”

“Oh.” That sounded cute. Patton would have to look up a picture.

“Did I also already tell you that the male platypus has a venomous spur on its back leg?”

“You did not,” Patton said, a smile still tugging at his mouth. Part of him wanted to tell Logan to go back to sleep, but he was just so happy that his friend was starting to act a bit more like himself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know what an echidna is, please look up a picture. It's not important to the story. They're just really cute.


	9. Chapter 9

Logan spent the rest of the weekend in the hospital. Even once he got out, he wouldn’t be going back to classes for a while.

It didn’t help that he wasn’t supposed to strain himself mentally or physically. He was forbidden from looking at computer or phone screens for the time being (not that he really wanted to- the light hurt his eyes), and wasn’t allowed to do anything too physically strenuous.

He slept for much of the weekend, partially out of boredom, partially because he still wasn’t feeling well. But by the time Sunday came, Logan was really starting to get restless.

It was okay when the others were there visiting him. They could talk about things, and even when it was just Virgil and it was one of those times that he didn’t feel like talking, he could just queue up a few old episodes of a podcast Logan liked and play them for him.

Joan and Talyn visited on Saturday morning, but they couldn’t stay long. Apparently, they were going out of town for a couple of days.

Patton, meanwhile, seemed determined to bring Logan a new stuffed animal every time he visited.

When it was just Logan, things were more difficult. Alone, Logan found it harder to deal with what was happening, to respect everyone’s wishes that he take care of himself and not work too hard.

But Logan tried to focus on the positives, like Patton’s seemingly endless chain of get-well-soon gifts.

By Sunday evening, Logan had been gifted his platypus, a unicorn, a mouse, a raven, and a replica of Hedwig from Harry Potter. Several hand-made get-well-soon cards stood on the bedside table. The stuffed animals surrounded him on the bed as he waited for his friends to arrive. Patton and Virgil were picking him up at 5 PM, as Roman had theater rehearsal, and Joan and Talyn weren’t getting back into town until later that night.

Once his two friends arrived, Logan could include a classic teddy bear in his collection of stuffed animals from Patton. Logan wasn’t really the type to keep a large number of stuffed animals, but these were gifts, so he appreciated them regardless.

The trip to Logan’s apartment was pretty uneventful. Virgil and Patton set him up on his couch: lots of pillows and blankets, some of Logan’s less complicated books, a glass of water, and a deck of cards so that he could play solitaire if he felt up to it.

Patton insisted that they all have a cup of hot chocolate before he and Virgil left, and he ducked into the kitchen to make some. Logan couldn’t help but notice the meaningful look he cast towards Virgil as he did so.

With a sigh, Virgil reached into one of his hoodie’s large pockets and pulled something out. He deposited it in Logan’s lap silently, not looking at him.

It was a small bat plushie, the body of which was about the size of a fist.

“Did you make this?” Logan asked, picking up the small stuffed animal and turning it over in his hands.

“Yep,” Virgil confirmed. “Patton’s idea.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said, looking up at him. “It’s quite skillfully made, and a very thoughtful gift.”

Virgil briefly met his eyes, then turned away, but not before Logan saw his blush.

…

Monday was strange without Logan there.

Up until Friday, for as long as any of his friends had known him, Logan had never, not once, missed a class.

While neither Patton, Roman, nor Virgil had any classes with Logan on that Monday, unless you counted the block of time they used for lunch, Joan did. According to them, calculus was a lot more awkward without someone there who would raise his hand for every question.

Joan and Talyn finally visited Logan that evening, but they didn’t stay more than an hour or so. Virgil wanted to visit, too, but he had to work until late that night. Virgil still would have gone to see his friend after work, but he figured that he and his friends should let Logan get to bed early, or at least, not give him an excuse to stay up as late as Virgil guessed he normally did.

…

Tuesday was stranger than Monday had been.

Patton usually shared his child development course with Logan on Tuesdays, since Patton was majoring in psychology (he wanted to be a child psychologist), and Logan had a minor in the subject. That class wasn’t exactly fun that day. Logan was the only person in that class who really spoke to Patton, which only exacerbated how much Patton missed him. The professor, Dr. Picani, stopped to check in with Patton at one point. According to him, Roman had emailed him about the situation.

Patton had put on his best smile and said, “Oh, I’m okay! And Logan’s going to be fine. He’ll be back soon. I’m just not sure when exactly.”

…

American History was also less than ideal, although not necessarily for the same reasons.

Dr. Grant, like Dr. Picani, knew of the situation. He didn’t say anything about it, though, to anyone in the class; instead, he just went through his lesson as normal.

In fact, it wasn’t even the class itself that was so bad. It was what happened immediately after.

…

Where was Logan?

It had taken him a bit to notice, but the perpetually over-dressed nerd was definitely not there. D, seated in the back of the classroom as usual, looked around as the start time for class ticked closer. Logan was usually fifteen minutes early, was he not?

D frowned.

1:00 came and went, and class started. D was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

 _I’m sure he’s fine,_ D told himself.  _Maybe he was just partying all weekend and has a huge hangover or something._

Logan didn't seem like the type to party that much, but who was D to say? He barely knew the guy.

Dr. Grant ended class five minutes early so that he could hurry off to some history department meeting. Most of the rest of the class quickly swarmed after him, eager to go home. D hung back, stuffing notebooks and worksheets into his messenger bag.

Some of Logan’s friends were still here.

D had to admit he was curious, so he approached the small group.  ~~Just curious; there was no other reason. That would be ridiculous.~~

“Hey, where’s that nerd friend of yours?” he asked nonchalantly. “Leon, right? Or was it Lincoln?”

“His name is Logan!” one of them snapped. Pale blue shirt, reddish hair, glasses, average height. D was pretty sure his name was Patton.

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” he said, as if he hadn’t already known Logan’s name. “Where is he? Has he finally decided to skip a day?” 

Or had he, as D was starting to suspect, OD’d on whatever he’d been on in the park?

“Why do you care?” one of the others asked. D knew him, too, although he actually did not know this one’s name. He was a little younger than the others, a freshman perhaps. D remembered him from a certain incident in a Chicago museum.

“Call it a healthy sense of curiosity,” D said, curving his lip up in what was nearly a smirk.

But the young man’s eyes were narrowing, his head tilting to the side. “Wait a second.”

Roman was glancing between the two, looking confused. “What?”

“You’re the guy! You f—”

“Virgil!” squawked Patton.

“—ing jerk!” Virgil—and oh, D suddenly remembered the contact name from Logan’s phone— started forwards.

D quickly put up his hands, palms out. “Hey, wait,” he said amicably. Against D’s will, his voice betrayed just a hint of his nervousness. He glanced towards Roman, the one of the three whom D knew best, as a fellow theater geek. But he didn’t get a chance to make an appeal to Roman, or to say anything else to defuse the situation.

Virgil _launched_ himself at the yellow-gloved student, murder in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

It was D. D, or whatever the guy’s real name was, was the one who’d abandoned Logan in a park at 3 in the morning. He’d just left him- just left him to potentially get hit by a car, or to wander into some other dangerous situation. What kind of self-centered prick would do something like that? Just abandon someone like that when they clearly needed help?

Virgil saw red.

He  _launched himself_ at the yellow-gloved man, murder in his eyes.

The momentum knocked D to the floor with a loud bang, a horrible screeching noise assaulting Virgil’s ears as a desk was pushed sharply to the side. D cried out. Whether it was in surprise or pain, Virgil wasn’t sure, but he was already drawing back his fist to punch this guy in his stupid ugly face.

Hands were on his shoulders and fisted in the back of his hoodie, trying to pull him off of his opponent. Virgil only managed to get in one good punch before he was yanked away.

There was yelling, some of it Virgil’s, but he could barely hear it over the roaring in his ears.

…

Virgil realized that Roman had his arms held behind his back, keeping him from throwing himself back at D. “Let me go!” he snarled, trying to twist his way free.

“No, Virgil! This isn’t going to help anything!”

Patton was knelt before D, talking to him, probably asking if he was okay. After a few moments, he helped the other young man back to his feet. Virgil was strangely satisfied to see him wince.

Later, he would be ashamed of that, but for now, he was just angry.

“You- you know what he did?” Virgil asked in outrage, yanking once more against Roman’s hold.

“I would if you calmed down and told me,” Roman said from behind him. His voice sounded strained. Worried.

Virgil looked up and caught sight of Patton’s expression, at the warring emotions upon it. He turned his head and saw D, holding himself in a strangely stiff manner, with a hand to his face over the spot where Virgil had punched him.

Virgil felt the fight drain out of him. Roman must have felt it too because after a couple of seconds, he let Virgil go.

D immediately took a half-step back, probably expecting Virgil to come at him again. His gaze was locked on Virgil’s in a glare.

Virgil curled back his lip and glared right back. “This piece of garbage is the one who called me and told me where to find Logan.”

Roman glanced between them, still looking baffled. “So?”

“So? He was gone when I showed up! Logan could’ve wandered off, been hit by a truck or something! He could’ve—he could’ve—,” Virgil broke off, wiping away angry tears.

Suddenly there were arms around him, squeezing him so tight he thought his ribs might crack. Patton. His face was buried against Virgil’s neck, and when he felt something damp against his skin, Virgil realized that Patton was crying.

Roman subtly moved to stand between Virgil and D, although who he was trying to keep from whom, Virgil wasn’t sure.

“Is everything alright in here?”

Patton jumped away from Virgil, quickly drying his tears with his sleeve. A professor that Virgil didn’t recognize stood in the doorway. He’d probably come from that history department meeting. They must have heard the commotion—of course they had.

“Everything’s fine, professor,” a voice said. It was D’s. Virgil was surprised. He would have expected D to sell him out immediately. “We just had a misunderstanding.”

Virgil looked over to see that D had straightened, no sign of any pain or anger in his face or in how he carried himself. His face was turned subtly away to hide the bruise on his cheekbone, but all that this conveyed was a sense of disinterest.

“Well…” the professor glanced around the room. “If you’re sure….” His eyes found Virgil, who managed to nod in affirmation.

“Okay.” Still looking a little uncertain, the professor backed out of the room.

…

There was an awkward silence.

As soon as the professor left, D had let the façade fall, had readjusted how he was carrying himself. As much as he hated showing weakness, his back had hit a desk rather hard, and it  _hurt_.

“So,” he said dryly, the movement sending a jolt of pain through his swollen cheek, “under threat of being attacked again, would one of you care to explain what the hell happened?”

“You abandoned my friend is what happened,” Virgil snapped, clearly not forgiving him just because he hadn’t tried to get Virgil in trouble. To be fair, D probably would have lied even if he did really want to get Virgil in trouble. He tended to lie no matter the situation. It was a little hard to stop at this point. Take his name, for example. He was so good at confusing people about it that even the professors, who had his legal name on their class lists, weren’t sure anymore what it was.

“I don’t have time to deal with people who drug themselves up for fun,” D said as a sort of explanation. It had also been three in the morning, and D had technically been breaking the law by even being in that park at that hour. Why did they blame him for not wanting to stick around longer than necessary? At least he’d called somebody. He could have just walked away, and nobody would have been the wiser.

“Who said anything about drugs?” Roman sounded genuinely bewildered, and D raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Patton understood first. “Logan wasn’t high, he’s  _hurt_ ,” he snapped. “He doesn’t do things like that.”

D frowned. “Well I don’t know how you expected me to know that,” he muttered. He glanced over at Virgil, who was starting to look like he wanted to punch him again, and quickly backtracked.

“That doesn’t excuse my actions; I know,” he admitted. “I probably should have stayed even though I misunderstood the situation. Is he okay?”

“No thanks to you,” Virgil practically growled.

Well, that wasn’t fair. “I did call you,” D pointed out.

“Yeah, and then you  _left_.” That wasn’t Virgil. D glanced around. Patton was glaring at him now.

D said nothing, but did glance between him and Virgil, still wary of another attack from these maniacs.

“You should be glad he’s okay,” Patton said. “’Cause if he wasn’t, I’d kill you.”

Everyone in the room froze and looked at Patton. Clearly, this was as out of character as D thought. But before anyone could say anything more, Patton had already stalked out of the room.

 _Can I go now?_  D thought, but he knew better than to ask out loud.

Roman put an arm on Virgil’s shoulder, gently but firmly steering him out of the room as well. He paused to glance back towards D. “Put some ice on that,” he advised, then left, presumably to go after Patton.

D was left standing in the middle of the classroom, alone.

…

Virgil was pretty antsy that afternoon. Even though it hadn’t seemed that D was planning to do anything, Virgil couldn’t help but expect the cops to show up at any minute and arrest him for assault.

Patton had suggested that they all go see Logan to keep him company and maybe help Virgil calm down. He’d agreed.

So here they were, outside Logan’s apartment. Roman reached up and knocked on the door.

After a few moments, the door opened, and Logan stood there. He wore pajama bottoms, but was otherwise dressed as he would be any other day. He motioned for them all to come in.

…

“Sooo,” said Patton, sitting down in one of Logan’s chairs and reaching into his bag. “I was thinking maybe we could all give each other manicures! I brought some nail files and polish we can use.”

“You have nail polish?” asked Roman.

Patton shrugged. “Why not, kiddo? You do, too,” he pointed out, gesturing at Roman’s golden-colored fingernails.

“I didn’t mean anything bad! I just didn’t think you were the type to wear it.”

“Guys,” Logan interrupted, glancing between the two of them. “I know you mean well, but the smell….” It wouldn’t work. There was no way that the nail polish wouldn’t worsen Logan’s headache, especially if they used acetone on Roman’s nails in order to repaint them.

“Oh,” said Patton, looking disappointed and slightly ashamed. He brightened a moment later. “Well, we can just save this idea for when you’re feeling better! I also brought some of my coloring books with me; we can color in those instead.”

Logan gave Patton a grateful-looking smile, and then Patton passed out the coloring books, crayons, and colored pencils that were taking up a considerable amount of space in his bag. Logan couldn’t help but wonder how he’d managed to fit anything else in there.

For a while, they just colored in silence. Virgil seemed to be coloring in his sheet only with varying shades of gray and black. Eventually, though, Logan saw, he seemed to change his mind, and reached forward to grab a purple crayon. As he did so, his sleeve slipped down a bit.

“What is that?” Logan asked, pointing at Virgil’s knuckles.

“Oh, um….” Virgil was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth once, twice, but no sound came out. Roman came to his rescue.

“Things got a bit… heated earlier today. Don’t freak out or anything,” he ordered. “You might break a fuse or something.” Virgil, still silent, rolled his eyes at the poorly executed joke.

“Virgil here got a call the other day from someone who found you in the park—”

“Yes, Roman, Virgil has told me this,” Logan interrupted.

“Well, turns out, it was D. From American History. And, uh, Virge here was understandably upset that he left you in that park.”

“You did not mention  _that_ ,” Logan said. He hadn’t known that the person who found him had left. When Virgil just shrugged, he continued, “What happened with D? Please tell me he won’t be pursuing legal action.”

“I don’t think so,” Roman said. “He wasn’t acting like he was going to, anyway.”

“You do realize that D displays all the signs of being a pathological liar, correct?”

“Aaand if he does end up trying to sue, we can point that out!” Roman argued.

Virgil, apparently calmer now that it seemed he wasn’t going to be yelled at, cleared his throat. When he tried to speak again, he managed to get a sound out this time. “He won’t.”

Logan sighed, knowing he wasn’t likely to get an explanation out of Virgil as to how he could possibly know that. “Fine. But no more fighting, especially on my behalf. You want me to stay calm, correct, in order to heal more quickly? Logically speaking, it would be very difficult for me to relax if I think you’re going to get hurt, or arrested.”

…

“I’m going to get some water,” Virgil announced, getting up. He stalked out of the room and into the kitchen. He didn’t need a lecture, not from Logan.

“I’m not the one who threatened to kill the guy,” he muttered under his breath, knowing the others couldn’t hear.

He even impressed himself with how passive-aggressively he managed to fill his glass of water, down it, and put the empty glass in the sink.

…

“I do not understand why I have to spend so much time away from class,” Logan announced. It was Wednesday evening, and he and Roman were hanging out in Logan’s apartment. “I believe myself to be much improved.”

Roman turned and looked at him. Logan was doing a word search puzzle, since Roman had refused to give him the advanced sudoku book he’d wanted. “Well, yeah, Specs, but between you and me, I’d really rather not have a repeat of what happened last week. As much fun as it was rushing to the hospital at four in the morning, in my admittedly dazzling pajamas.”

Logan let a rush of air out through his nose to convey his displeasure, but he didn’t say anything more on the topic.

“When did you say Virgil and Patton would be arriving?”

“Patton’s done at the shelter at five, and I think he said he’s going to pick up some takeout for us. Virgil doesn’t get off work until nine, though, so I told him I’d let him know if you still wanted him to come.”

“Ah, yes. You can let him know that I would like him to come.”

“Yeah, sorry, nerd, but I’m waiting until later to make that call. You might be tired by then.”

Logan sighed again, adjusting his glasses. “Fine.” He was starting to get annoyed by all this. It felt like they were treating him like a child. It was enough having Patton always acting like everyone’s dad, he didn’t need Roman doing that too.


	11. Chapter 11

Around six, Patton arrived at Logan’s apartment. He had brought Chinese food and his coloring books with him. After the initial greetings, the three friends ate and colored for a while in silence.

“We should watch  _Mulan!_ ” Roman suddenly suggested, emphasizing his desire with his chopsticks.

Logan sighed pointedly.

“Oh, right. No screens.”

Logan leaned back against the back of his chair, putting aside the very neatly filled in coloring page that he had been working on. “It’s quite alright, Roman. You and Patton can watch the movie if you would like. I think I’m going to go lie down for a while.”

“Are you okay?” Patton asked, looking up. A few grains of rice were stuck to the side of his mouth. Logan pursed his lips, but refrained from commenting on this.

“Yes, Patton, I am well. Now, if you will excuse me.” Logan got up and passed by his two friends on the way to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Now that he was alone, Logan sighed, opened a drawer in his desk, and took out a pill bottle. His head was killing him, and coloring that drawing with such careful precision had been, in hindsight, a poor decision on his part.

He wasn’t going to tell Patton, that, though. Coloring books had been a good idea, and Logan didn’t want his friend to feel guilty. He simply took filling in the lines too seriously. After unscrewing the cap on the pill bottle, Logan dry-swallowed one of the painkillers and lay down on his bed. The overhead light remained off, but enough light to see by filtered through the blinds on the window.

He could hear Patton’s and Roman’s voices in the other room, but not quite well enough to tell what they were saying.

..

Roman was putting the  _Mulan_ DVD in the player.

“Are you sure we should really watch this without him?”

“Why not? He offered,” Roman pointed out. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere. We can always turn it off if he changes his mind.”

Patton sighed, coloring in a small patch of blue on his coloring page. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Logan?” Roman said. “Of course he’s okay. He’s probably just tired. You know he works too hard. I for one am simply glad he’s resting.”

“I guess.” Patton glanced towards the plain black door that led to Logan’s room. “I just worry is all.”

…

Logan stayed in his room for quite some time. The painkillers made him sleepy, and while he wasn’t entirely sure, he suspected that he may have dozed off at some point.

Regardless, the light outside his bedroom window was darkening, and as Logan contemplated how long he planned to stay in bed, he listened to faint strains of “I’ll Make a Man out of You” playing in his living room. Roman and Patton were both singing along, but they seemed to be at least trying to be quiet about it.

Logan wished his headache would go away.

…

Today was Thursday, and Virgil was nervous.

For the first time since the incident on Tuesday, Virgil would have to sit in a class with D. He was trying not to think about what that would be like, but it was difficult to avoid. His hands were shaking slightly with nerves when he was pouring his coffee, and his roommate had actually swept in and grabbed the coffee pot from him.

“Hold up, Virge, I can’t let you spill this. It’d be such a waste, even if you do insist on drinking this sludge,” his roommate had said, crinkling his nose.

“You don’t have to drink it,” Virgil had pointed out, sulking.

“I’m not,” his roommate had replied, setting down the coffee pot. “I’m going to Starbucks right now. Like, for some  _actual coffee_.”

Virgil just groaned and took a sip from his chipped black mug. He wasn’t in the mood for this. His roommate seemed to take the hint, or perhaps was just running late for his coffee run, for he left almost immediately afterwards.

At least he didn’t have American History as his first class of the day. Spanish took that spot.

…

Virgil couldn’t seem to stop shaking his leg. He was sitting in American History, half listening to Dr. Grant talk about… something or other. Okay, fine, maybe he wasn’t listening.

In Virgil’s defense, he was rather distracted. Class had begun fifteen minutes prior, and two students were missing.

One of them, of course, was Logan, who wouldn’t be back until Monday at the soonest.

The other was D.

…

Patton was sitting just behind Virgil. He could tell his friend was anxious—the fact that he kept shaking his leg made that pretty obvious—but Patton wasn’t sure how he could help the situation.

He couldn’t interrupt class to talk to Virgil and help him calm down, so Patton just slowly put a hand against Virgil’s back.

It seemed to work. Virgil started a bit at first, but then relaxed slightly at the touch. His leg even stopped shaking, to the clear relief of the student to Virgil’s left, who had been starting to look like she wanted to cut it off.

Patton and Virgil stayed like that for a while, listening to the lecture.

Just over halfway through class, there was a knock on the classroom door. Dr. Grant paused his lecture and went to answer it. Patton felt Virgil stiffen, and he looked over at the door.

Dr. Grant stepped back, and D came in the classroom. He must have been wearing quite a bit of makeup, since there was no sign of the thick bruise on his cheekbone, but he still walked rather stiffly. Patton saw him glance coldly at Virgil as he passed by on his way to a desk in the back of the room.

Patton pressed his hand a little harder against Virgil’s back as Dr. Grant resumed his lesson.

…

Virgil fully expected another confrontation after class, but it didn’t happen.

D did bump sharply into Virgil’s shoulder on his way out of the classroom, causing him to stumble, but he didn’t say a word to the anxious freshman.

Roman claimed that D felt bad about the whole thing. Virgil wasn’t sure. He suspected that Roman just had a soft spot for the liar since they were in theater together.

“It doesn’t matter,” Patton announced on their way out of the building. “Either way, he’s leaving Virgil alone, and he’s not getting the police involved. There’s no point in worrying about his motivation.”

As they descended the stairs—the very same ones that Logan had fallen down—Virgil couldn’t help but notice an addition to the stairwell. There was a cheerfully colored sign on the wall that read “Watch your step!” in italicized and underlined script. The school, of course, knew of what had happened to Logan. This sign must have been their way of making up for it.

 _Of course they would just tell people to watch their step rather than actually making the stairs less slippery,_  Virgil commented silently.

…

The rest of the week passed without incident.

Logan continued to improve, and to his immense relief, his doctor approved him to return to school that upcoming Monday.

His friends’ company had helped, of course, but if Logan was perfectly honest, he would have gone crazy if he had to stay home any longer. There were only so many coloring pages he was willing to fill in, so many podcasts he wanted to listen to, when he knew that his college workload was only growing bigger while he recovered.

Monday finally came. Logan spent the day getting back into the swing of college, catching up on the material he’d missed after his injury. The classroom lights were a little too bright, but other than that, things went pretty smoothly.

On Tuesday, it rained.

Logan brought his umbrella and drove to the college, where his friends were going to meet him before class.

He spotted Patton’s pink umbrella from a mile away, and went to catch up with him. Patton seemed delighted to see him there, and they entered the building together. Logan was still getting the rain off of his umbrella when he found himself pulled into one of Patton’s hugs.

“Patton, my umbrella—your clothes will get damp,” Logan said, pulling away.

“I don’t mind, silly! I’m just glad you’re back.” Patton flashed one of his radiant smiles, and Logan sighed.

“Very well.”

He and Patton waited for Roman and Virgil to arrive (thankfully, Virgil actually brought his umbrella this time), and the four of them chatted for a few minutes before class.

Patton and Logan shared psychology together on Mondays, which was on the ground floor. They and their other friends ate packed lunches together before American History, and went to head up to that classroom.

Everything seemed like it was fine, until Logan saw the staircase.

 _“Watch your step_!” said a very new-looking sign.

For some unfathomable reason, Logan suddenly froze. His heartrate sped up, his hearing warped, and a stab of something akin to pain went through his chest.

“Logan? You good, buddy?” said a voice.

“Roman, back off,” said another.

Something was blocking his vision. A face. Pale. Black eyeshadow. Virgil?

His hand was being pulled. Not towards the stairs—to the side.

“Hey, Logan. How about we take the elevator today instead? We don’t have to take the stairs. Does that sound good?”

Logan managed to nod, to tear his gaze away from the stairs. Virgil was leading him to a small alcove to the left, where the elevator doors were, and Patton and Roman were walking on either side of him. Roman glared at a couple of people who had paused to stare, and Patton looked like he wanted to pull him into another hug, but refrained from doing so.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said unnecessarily. “That would be… that would be satisfactory. Thank you, Virgil.”

Logan was lucky to have such good friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.The next two stories in this AU are going to be prequels. The first should be up later tonight, but be patient with me on getting the second one posted- I'm going abroad soon and won't have much time to write.


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